by Sarah Gerdes
“Why do you keep doing that?” Lani hissed in her ear.
“Because I don’t want any of these people giving me special treatment in Andre’s name, or expecting him to join me.”
“Looks to me like you are getting special treatment all on your own,” said Stephen. “The manager is either doing it because he wants to take you out or Andre has told him to keep treating you well. Maybe both.”
Danielle just shook her head. She then thought of Lars. She decided against saying a word to Lani. She didn’t want to listen to Lani’s conjectures about a romance or worry that Danielle had a rebound fling. Instead, she observed her friend and Stephen, watching their interaction, trying to assess if the recent challenges in Lani’s desire to wait on having children had lingering effects.
It didn’t seem so. Stephen’s hands were always on Lani’s shoulders, hips or butt when she was nearby, and Lani seemed wholly engaged with her husband even if she were dancing on the platform.
Her thoughts were interrupted when Johanne and Dario came over, inviting her to join them on stage. She willingly did so, enjoying the beats of the music and her two handsome and utterly platonic dancing partners. The rest of the evening passed in a blur of movement and music.
Sunday morning Danielle visited the zoo by herself, meandering through the place twice, at first wondering if she should get a pet, and by her second lap, deciding that the poor animal would die of loneliness. Animals, like people, need companionship. Early afternoon, she went for a sail, the lake chock full of pleasure crafts, a sure sign the season would soon be over. That evening, her father told her the year would go by without her noticing, and in the end she’d congratulate herself for staying put.
“You’ll wonder what you would ever have done had you come home,” he predicted.
When two weeks had passed since the evening in St. Moritz, Danielle found herself relegating Lars to a slot in her file folder of physical transactions. She’d flip it open when she wanted to think about a momentary high and the rest of the time, she kept it closed. Saturday evening was spent at Stars & Stripes. She wore her cowboy boots and short jeans skirt, periodically singing to the country music as she delivered food to a packed house. Dancing typically followed until two am, the venue now a place of comfort and familiarity, not worry. She’d not seen Andre once, believing he was likely with his new girlfriend. She now went entire days without thinking of him, for which she was thankful.
When she did think of a man, it was usually Lars. Danielle found herself growing irritated at him for not stopping by her office. Perhaps he’s the one that can’t handle the notion of being with a co-worker, not me, she wondered. She also found it peculiar that it wasn’t the aggressive, sexually charged time they spent in the gondola that she relived, but the quiet, emotion filled interaction in the car.
Friday morning, four weeks after the Gondola ride, she attended a thirty-minute meeting of the currency and gold traders. She decided she’d had enough with normalcy. She sat on the right side of the table, facing the water, seven seats down, not three. Lars was at the end, Ulrich to his immediate left, updating the group on current events and the general objectives for the fall. Lars announced one trader was relocating to the States and he wouldn’t be replaced.
Lars made eye contact with everyone in the room, including herself, with no variation or emotion as he conveyed his belief that the existing team was doing well enough to cover “and exceed” the existing objectives. Danielle listened without comment. She returned to her office to find three dozen red roses on her desk. Andre? Lars? Danielle slowed her breathing as she opened the card.
Congratulations on seven billion. Over half-way there. You have this, David
She suppressed her regret that it wasn’t from either men, but appreciated David’s gesture. The massive concoction was so large she had to place it on her side credenza. Well, at least one man in her life cared enough to send the very best.
CHAPTER 36
That night, Danielle decided to head over to Stars & Stripes. As she watched the bustle in the room. Lani was right about one thing; the success of a restaurant left the chef with very little time for anyone else—herself include. In fact, outside of Saturday nights, she rarely saw her best friend.
Danielle went directly into the kitchen, waiting to catch Lani’s attention.
“How are you tonight?” Danielle asked.
“Good!” Lani said with a tired but satisfied smile.
The dance music was thumping in the background when Max, Lucas and Christian came in. They waved and she greeted them warmly, giving them her special booth that she, Lani and Stephen permanently reserved for Andre. It was the least a quarter million could provide.
“How’s the trading going?” Lucas asked Danielle.
She sat beside him. “As of this morning, I have seven billion dollars of other people’s money under management, so pretty good I’d say.”
Lucas blinked. Max coughed, and Christian—well, he was Christian. He just sat there gazing at her.
“Can you take our money?” Max asked.
Danielle laughed. “Sure, but I want to make one thing crystal clear. I am not allowed to fraternize, date, or otherwise become romantically involved with any client,” she continued, pausing for effect. “And if I do, I will get fired and sued. So if those terms and conditions are acceptable to you, then you can become my client. Oh, and you have to meet the minimum investment of a hundred million francs, but the managing director has been known to make exceptions for my network.” She gave them a wink.
The men were completely silent, torn between laughter and shock. It was Lucas who spoke first. He turned to Max and said: “That bastard. He never told us why.”
“Well, we couldn’t ask you out anyway,” said Max sullenly. “Andre would have our heads on a hockey stick.”
Danielle assured the three that Andre was long since beyond caring about her. They looked at one another and said nothing. Apparently they had a man-pact on the subject they weren’t going to break.
“The good news is you can still come here and eat wonderful food at his special table.” She took their orders and wished them a good night when they left an hour later.
Sure enough, the following week Ulrich approved the extraordinarily low investment capital of five million francs a piece from each of the three men, and for the first time Danielle could proudly say she knew them and had fully disclosed her non-dating situation. She waited for Ulrich to ask, but of course, since she’d given full disclosure, he never brought it up.
October 2nd, Danielle celebrated her six and a half month anniversary in Zurich by calling Giles.
“Is it time to break out the dry suit?”
“And a face mask,” he replied. “Not much longer and we’ll close the joint for winter.” When she arrived, Giles had her board and sail out. He told her to turn around so he could zip up her back. “The least I can do,” he remarked.
“And why’s that?”
Giles grunted. “Because you must be getting lonely about now. Andre has told anyone who’s male and a friend that they better not date you.”
Danielle whipped around. “Are you kidding me?” Where in the world did he get off telling his friends what they could and couldn’t do?
“True story,” he said with a shrug. Pragmatism asserted itself. It wasn’t like she was going to start dating their mutual acquaintances anyway, but it was the over-reaching that annoyed her.
She tamed her reaction. “I’m so glad that’s cleared up, because you know, I was here ready to rush into your arms.”
“Eh, I’d rather see you mostly naked in a bathing suit any day. Dating is so high maintenance.”
She laughed, grateful she wasn’t going to lose this relationship. She rode along the waves for the next ninety-minutes, enjoying the freedom of the water. She easily avoided looking at the slip where Andre kept the boat. Yes, they’d been in love and would have continued on together, but the experience hadn’t l
eft lasting scars. For that, she was grateful.
That evening, Danielle finally told Lani about the gondola ride with Lars.
“A rebound makeout session. Everyone needs it.” Lani’s light-hearted response didn’t take away from the fact that Lars was a remarkable man with whom she’d shared an indisputable, if fleeting, connection. She should probably thank the man for being the smart one by remaining distant. This way they remained rational, objective and highly-driven professionals.
CHAPTER 37
“What’s this?” Glenda asked, obviously wondering what to make of the witch, the scarecrow and the black goblin figurines on Danielle’s credenza.
“Halloween,” Danielle replied happily. “This is my favorite,” she said, pointing to a cauldron on her desk that she’d filled to the brim with candy. It was held in place by a grotesque witch with a green face and glowing red eyes. It even had a motion sensor, causing the witch to cackle every time a person took a piece of candy.
Glenda was left without words and Danielle guessed the woman didn’t care what she celebrated as long as Danielle was bringing home the results, which she was.
Danielle popped an M & M into her mouth. She’d had to track down a shop catering to ex-pats to find it. The small concoctions were definitely low-brow compared to the pure Swiss chocolate, but they had a specific flavor Danielle simply couldn’t replace for Halloween. It was the one treat she had to have, more so this year than before.
Ulrich had requested a one-on-one meeting with her. He told her another seven hundred million dollars was going to be placed in her accounts, the funds originating out of Geneva, from the Mettleren family. Danielle had been shocked.
“Results speak for themselves,” Ulrich said. He then brought up the gift MRD had provided her months before.
“Did you ever use the tickets to attend a summer or early fall event at the opera house?”
Danielle admitted she’d hadn’t. “I should have returned them. I’ve never been a fan of going places alone and it probably won’t change.” He refused to take the tickets back, encouraging her to go the following weekend.
“You really should try, just once,” he told her. “The seats are relatively private, in a box, and you won’t be disturbed or even forced to sit by a stranger.” Well, that might make a difference, she thought. “It’s the opening night and the best ballerina in the world is showcased. It will do you good.”
Perhaps. It certainly wasn’t going to do her any harm.
Saturday evening Danielle walked between the three-story pillars of the Zurich Opera House and presented her ticket to the tuxedo-dressed security guard. Those present were dressed in elegant evening attire, and she was glad she chose the dark brown chiffon and lace dress with a three-quarter length. She’d been afraid of standing out as it was, coming alone. At least this way she blended in with the crowd, the brown about boring as one could get.
A man glanced at her ticket. “Your box seating provides complimentary beverage service,” he said, pointing to the stairwell or elevator best suited for her seats. “This is on the third floor, closest to the stage. The best in the house,” he said, smiling with a slight bow.
She thanked him, taking the elevator. The box was on the left side of the stage, closest to the performers.
“This way ma’am,” said an attendant in perfect English. He offered her the choice of five seats, three in the front row, two in the back, all plush red velvet with gold trim. “Will guests be joining you this evening?”
She was disappointed he’d not even tried using German with her. “No, I’m alone.”
He took her drink order, and when he returned, pointed out the small binoculars and program in the pocket in front of her. “It’s in English as well.”
Sipping her drink, she took in the grandeur of the small theatre. The Zurich Opera was the smallest world-class opera in the world, but considered one of the best. The U-shaped theatre had box seats in the inner rim on the second and third and floors, with general seating behind, but only the first three boxes on this floor had a special upper canopy-like dome atop. The additional layer of privacy was unnecessary, she thought. One couldn’t see the patrons from any angle, except directly across the theatre in the other box.
Danielle sighed as she flipped through the program, unable to stop thinking about her father. He had sounded worse the last two weeks and the latest test results weren’t encouraging. But he refused to talk about it, insisting he was doing all he could, a fact the doctor had confirmed. His attitude was positive, and his ceaseless words of encouragement heartfelt. When she told him several recruiters had contacted her, he sounded pleased, even though both calls ended abruptly when they learned of the non-compete and buy-out clauses.
“It didn’t matter,” she’d told her dad. “I’m not going anywhere.” Time was marching along, and in the not-too-distant future, she could stay with MRD, resign or effectively retire for a period of time and work in the restaurant to fill the hours in the day. She enjoyed filling in for the wait staff and hanging out. She truly adored Max and the guys, constantly joking with them when they dropped by.
The overhead lights dimmed, and the attendant asked her if she’d like another sparkling water with lime. The music had just started when she saw a figure enter the box and taking the seat next to her. Her heart pounded and she felt her hands turn cold. She knew the scent. Only one man wore it. She was wrong about coming. It could do her harm.
Stymied, Danielle did nothing. For two seconds. Then she grabbed her purse with her right hand, looping the strap around her palm.
“Danielle, don’t leave.” The request was accompanied by a hand on her arm. “Please. Stay and talk to me.” It was the please that stopped her.
The music continued its introductory crescendo of ups and downs, setting the stage for the curtain to be raised. She hesitated, knowing instinctively where this was going to lead. She closed her mind to the thought. There was another choice. To have a reasonable, adult conversation with a man who completely consumed her mind and her body.
She inched back in her chair until the high-backed red cushion was pressed into her shoulder blades. She then placed her fingers on either side of his palm and lifted it up and off her arm.
“Thank you.” Two more words that Lars had never uttered. Danielle crossed her legs, still not looking at him. She inhaled, allowing herself the momentary enjoyment of his intoxicating smell and spike of desire she experienced even being by the man.
“Danielle, this was the only place where I could speak with you privately. I couldn’t do so at the office, and the probability was high you would have rejected an invitation to talk elsewhere, so I had to wait.” That much was true, she grudgingly admitted to herself. Still, she wasn’t inclined to give him the satisfaction of responding.
The curtain rose, and Danielle was transported back to 19th century Russia. She found it ironic that this ballet, of all the performances she could be watching, was of an ill-fated love triangle.
“Danielle, look at me.”
Danielle stared at the beautiful ballerina who danced across the stage, her lithe legs barely seeming to touch the ground.
“I don’t want to,” she replied stiffly.
“Please look at me.”
It took all her strength to slowly turn her eyes to meet his. When she did, she knew that all her defense mechanisms, all the internal promises she’d made to herself, the mental barriers she’d erected and held in place would vanish, disappearing in a single nuclear explosion that eradicated any trace of her previous resolutions.
“It’s taken me the last month to consider our…situation, and how it all began. You said you didn’t drink. I encouraged you to do it. I knew you were…off-balance by seeing Andre and his date. I heard you sing. I went from respect to desire to craving to something more. I make no apologies for that. I’m human and I’m a man. It’s for crossing a line that should only have been done when you were in full control of your senses. I’m sor
ry I took advantage of you,” he finished, watching her expectantly.
She was silent, making him wait a few seconds, each one representing a week when he could have reached out to her—somehow.
“You are apologizing for the wrong thing,” she said archly.
He eyed her. “Is that right?”
“Yes. You should be apologizing for ignoring me an entire month after what happened.” She met his composed scan of her face with ease. “You don’t think I remember what we talked about? What we said?”
“I wasn’t sure.”
Danielle looked back to the stage. “For your edification, I remember all of it, from the first drink to the last kiss.”
“Danielle,” he said, touching the back of her hand with his fingertip. “Does that mean you accept my apology?”
She faced him. “No. I don’t accept your apology.” Lars was immobile, save for his mouth that turned down slightly. She waited just long enough to make him uncomfortable. “Do you know why?” she asked, proud of herself for keeping her voice even. “You can’t take advantage of someone who is at least a partially willing participant.”
With that statement, Danielle knew she had broken down one more barrier between them.
“Partially?” he asked.
“Yes, which for your mathematical mind, means you weren’t entirely in the wrong for what you did.”
“Entirely?” he repeated, two fingers on her hand now. Danielle wasn’t entirely trying to stop his touch, and her attention was unable to remain entirely on his eyes, flicking down to his lips and back up.
“Perhaps only fractionally,” she said. A sense of lightness appeared on his face, as though he appreciated her choice of words.
Lars took the time to look at her entire body and she flushed under the intense scrutiny. It occurred to her he’d never been in a position to admire her so overtly.
“The mental sparing with a brilliant, beautiful woman is the ultimate for a man like me. And the physical attraction I have to you is unlike anything I’ve ever experienced. Over the last month, I’ve calculated and re-calculated the risk and reward associated with you and ultimately determined it’s worth it. A billion dollars can’t buy a woman such as you.”